


proving them wrong

by Crollalanza



Series: Mad Dogs and Setter-sans [3]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:01:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24251752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crollalanza/pseuds/Crollalanza
Summary: “It’s me,” came the gruff voice.“Kentarou! Shit, were we supposed to be meeting up? I thought you… um … thought we weren’t seeing each other ‘til tomorrow.”“Please, let me in.”It was the please that did it, so without asking any more questions, Shigeru buzzed him in.When Kyoutani turns up one night, drenched from walking through a storm, Shigeru immediately lets him inside. There's been a row with his dad, over his hair, Kentarou tells him. But there's also a bruise under his eye and his story doesn't quite add up. But how do you help someone who clams up and rejects you at every turn?
Relationships: Kyoutani Kentarou/Yahaba Shigeru
Series: Mad Dogs and Setter-sans [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1419865
Comments: 17
Kudos: 332





	proving them wrong

**Author's Note:**

> This is the third part of the kyouhaba series, which I wanted to write as soon as I finished the last one, but have only now got around to it - ha! 
> 
> Anyway, enjoy. I hope. You don't have to read the other parts of the series, but you might just enjoy them!
> 
> Oh, and Kyoutani Michiko is Kentarou's sister.

The buzzer from the gate went around a quarter of an hour after he’d settled down with the photograph albums. Flicking his eyes to the clock and realising with relief it was far too early for his parents to have returned, plus they had keys so wouldn’t ring the gate to be let in, Shigeru got to his feet and sauntered to answer it.

“Yup,” he said, pressing the button and wondering which of the residents had ordered a delivery and forgotten to leave their correct number.

“It’s me,” came the gruff voice.

“Kentarou! Shit, were we supposed to be meeting up? I thought you… um … thought we weren’t seeing each other ‘ til tomorrow.”

“Please, let me in.”

It was the please that did it, so without asking any more questions, Shigeru buzzed him in. It was raining, he realised, not enough to drench someone on the walk up the driveway, but enough that he waited by the front door so Kentarou wasn’t outside for longer than was necessary.

Except, when he opened the door to him, he’d clearly been outside for far longer than he should. The rain cascaded off his hair, had soaked right into his inadequate jacket and shorts, and had waterlogged his trainers.

“I won’t stop,” Kentarou rasped, and his teeth chattered. “I just … I just … Can you lend me some money?”

“Get inside,” Shigeru ordered and yanked on his arm. “What do you mean you won’t stop? You’re wet through and cold!”

“I’m fine.”

“Don’t say that when you’re clearly not.” Shigeru peered at him, noticing not only that he was cold but incredibly pale. (He tried not to stare at what looked like a raw bruise emerging on his cheek.) “Come and dry off at least and have a hot drink.”

It didn’t take much persuading, and Kentarou had slipped off his shoes leaving them carefully on the mat before Shigeru had reached the kitchen.

“I won’t stay long,” he still muttered. “Don’t want to disturb … uh … family stuff.”

“My parents are out, so it’s just me and a stack of photographs.” He closed the album he’d been flicking through and then reached for the kettle. “Tea, coffee, hot chocolate.”

“Coffee,” Kentarou muttered gruffly.

“Sit down,” Shigeru replied, gesturing to the table.

“I’ll get everything wet.”

“Oh … right.” He turned and involuntarily his stomach did that small swoop it always did when he saw Kentarou. Idly, he wondered if that would ever fade, if the attraction he felt would ever numb. Then he blinked and shook his head. “I’ll get you a towel and dry clothes if you want.”

“Thanks. Towel’s fine for now. I can’t stay. Got a bus—Hell, what’s the time?”

“Nine thirty.”

“Damn.” He slapped his head. “Fuckin’ missed it.”

“The buses to your Dad’s run every half hour,” Shigeru replied. He blushed slightly, knowing he’d just revealed he’d been studying the timetable since he knew Kyoutani would be staying with his dad.

Kentarou dismissed him with a shake of his head. “I’m going back to Mum’s.”

“Oh.” He waited, but knowing Kentarou offered information only when he felt comfortable and from the way he was staring at his hands and looking at everything except Shigeru that wasn’t now, he tripped off to the bathroom, pulling out a bath towel and one for his hair.

“You could shower, and I’ll have something that fits you,” he suggested. “When’s the next bus?”

Kentarou shrugged, muttered something incomprehensible, but began to dry himself, finally winding the towel around his waist and sitting on one of the chairs. “Sorry.”

“What for?”

“Turning up. Couldn’t think where else to go. But you’re busy with something.”

“Not too busy to see you,” breezed Shigeru. The kettle clicked off so scooping two spoons of coffee in two mugs, he made their drinks and brought the milk bottle to the table. “You need money?”

“Bus fare, that’s all. I … I don’t have my wallet.”

“You’ve lost it?”

He shook his head. Taking a jagged deep breath, he added some milk to his coffee, and also two spoons of sugar.

Unusual.

“Are you hungry?” he asked.

“I’m fine.” But just then his stomach growled. “I can get something.”

“It’s leftovers,” Shigeru said, and got to his feet. “Mum made too much. I can heat it quickly.”

“Then, yeah, thanks.” He buried his face in his cup again, taking small quick sips, and sniffing until his breathing appeared to get back to normal, waiting for Shigeru as he stirred the Katsu curry.

Shigeru waited. He waited for Kentarou to finish his first few mouthfuls, waited for the hunger to abate inside of him, and waited for whatever else was eating him up to subside—if it ever did.

And while he waited, his hand slid cross to the last photo album.

The movement sparked interest. “What’s that?”

“I was looking through old photos,” Shigeru explained and opened up the book. “It’s Dad’s birthday in two weeks time, and I wanted to make a card. I was going to digitalise some of these.”

He swallowed down some food, this time chewing a little more slowly. “Nice thing to do.”

“It’s a bit lame.”

“Sure he’ll like it.” He shrugged again. “But what do I know?” he muttered, sounding bitter. Then he sighed, and pushed his bowl away from him. “I had a fight with Dad. I can’t go back, but I left my wallet there and my bus pass, so will you lend me some money?”

“Um, sure, but … you really want to go home now? It’s late. Do you even have your keys?”

“I can’t go back to Dad’s. And there’s nowhere else. Neighbour‘s got keys and I c’n collect Dango and Mochi.”

“It’ll still be late.

“So.”

So… you can stay here,” Shigeru offered.

“Huh? But your parents—”

“Are not going to mind you bunking down for the night.”

“You’re so sure about that?” He glared across the table.

“I’m sure they’re not going to chuck you out in this weather, although they might attempt to persuade you to go back to your dad’s.”

“Is that what you’re going to do?”

Shaking his head, Shigeru blew across his coffee cup to cool it, watching as the steam disappeared and then reformed. And while he collected his thoughts, he noticed again the patch of red on Kentarou’s left cheekbone not diminished by the colour returning to his face. “I’ve known you for two and a half years,” he said mildly, “and you’ve walked out before, but you’ve always had a good reason, even if I didn’t understand at the time.”

Kentarou pulled the bowl back towards him, finished the food in silence and then got up to put the bowl in the sink. He stared at the rain outside falling against the window pane, utterly still and at all times aloof, but didn’t shrug off Shigeru’s hand on his shoulder.

“Want to talk?”

“No.” Rinsing out his bowl, scrubbing with the brush on the side, he left it to drain. “Thanks for the food. I’ll go now. I can wait by the stop.”

“It’s pissing down, you’ve obviously just missed a bus and if you won’t go back to your dad’s then you should at least wait here,” Shigeru murmured, and risking rebuffal, he slid his arms round Kentarou’s waist. “I won’t ask any more questions, okay?”

“It’ll be easier if I just go,” Kentarou said, his voice gruff. “That way you won’t get into shit either, and your parents don’t even have to know I was here—”

He stopped for breath, but just then, Shigeru’s phone rang. He blinked and staggered back, recognising the ring tone.

“Oh… it’s you,” he said, reaching for the phone.

“Shit. Yeah, I left that too. It’ll be dad. Ignore him.”

“I can’t do that. And he should know you’re safe.”

“He won’t fucking care!” Kyoutani yelped and tried to grab the phone, but Shigeru was too quick and swiped to answer the call.

“Hello,” said a young girl. “Is that Yahaba-san?”

“It is.” He dodged Kyoutani, and span around. “Michiko?”

“Yes,” she replied. “Is Nii-san there?”

“Micchan?” Kentarou questioned, and this time held out his hand for the phone, not demanding, more in supplication.

“He is,” Shigeru replied before handing the phone over because it wasn’t that he didn’t trust Kentarou to hang up, but …

Scowling, but whether it was to Shigeru or because of the situation, Kenatarou began to speak to his sister. A series of yesses and noes, then stepping back, he slumped against the wall.

“It wasn’t your fault, Micchan. I’m fine.” He swallowed. “No, I can’t come back tonight. He won’t want that. I’ll … FUCK!” His expression changed, no longer placating and tender, but anger and horror swept across his face. “No, I’m staying where I am.”

”I found somewhere. No, you don’t know them.”

“Fine. Absolutely fine! You won’t ever have to fucking see me again!”

And then, as it was clear the phone had gone dead, he swore.

It was written in every sinew in his body just how much he wanted to throw the phone, but instead he clutched it harder. “Bastard.”

“Your dad, right?”

“Yeah, he must have heard Micchan talking to me.” He sniffed. “Unless he got her to call. But … no she … I don’t think she’d do that. Would she?”

“She’s stubborn and fierce, like you. Can’t see anyone making her do anything.” Crouching next to him, Shigeru uncurled Kentarou’s fingers from his phone, then stroked his cheek. “If you want to talk…”

He shook his head, not angrily more in resignation. “I’ll go. I’ll … um … call you tomorrow.”

“I really don’t think you should.”

“I can’t be around you right now.” Kentarou bit his lip. “I don’t mean that. I mean be around people.”

With a sigh, Shigeru stood up. His wallet was on the table, as was his bus pass, so he got ready to offer both, even if he did think it was a bad idea. “What time’s your next bus?”

“Forty five minutes.”

“Bus stop’s only five minutes away. Stay here for a bit,” he suggested and pulled out a chair.

He shrugged. “Sure.”

“Want more coffee?”

“No. Show me what you were doing.” He gestured to the albums.

“Only if you promise not to laugh at my baby pics.”

“Can’t promise,” he muttered. “Have you chosen one yet?”

Shaking his head, he flicked to the back of the album, showing Kentarou a snapshot of his parents, nearly twenty years before. “Maybe this one.”

“Is that your Mum? She looks … uh … cool.”

“The bike was Dad’s. He’s still got one.”

“I meant the hair. Hard to believe you’re related.”

“Mmm, I think I’m a disappointment to her because I’ve never wanted purple hair, and always preferred scissors to shears … or a razor,” he replied lightly. “So, this one?”

Kentarou screwed up his nose, but didn’t offer an opinion.

“Or something else?” Shigeru asked, trying to draw him out.

“It’s your dad’s birthday, right?”

“Yes.”

“That one’s more about your Mum. He’s kind of background.” He reached for the album, flipping forward, snorting when he saw one of Shigeru dressed in a nappy and with banana smushed in his hand. “Were you born with that hairstyle? You can tell it’s you.”

“Why change perfection?”

Kentarou didn’t reply, his attention now focused on another picture from much earlier. “Wow. Never really thought much about family likenesses, but this dude could actually be you!”

“Oh…” He peered at the picture, seeing a man, probably in his thirties and smoking a cigarette as he leant against a wall. “That’s Dad’s dad. I didn’t know him.”

“Tough break. He might have had some hair tips for you.”

He was calmer now, his breathing less ragged and he was making small digs at Shigeru and his hair, but a don’t look at me or touch me aura had settled around him. And as they flipped through the rest of the pictures, Shigeru kept one eye on the time, hoping he could delay Kentarou so he missed the next bus.

But Kentarou had begun to twitch, and twenty minutes before the bus was due, he scraped back his chair.

“I should—”

“Hello!”

“Who’s that?” Kentarou hissed,

“Mum? Dad? What are you doing back?”

“It was an open air performance. We got so wet we decided to call it a night,” his mum replied. “Dad’s parking the car.”

“Oh… right. Um, Kyoutani’s here.”

“I’m about to leave, actually,” Kentarou put in.

“So soon.” Shigeru’s mum appeared, a smile on her face.

“My bus, Yahaba-san,” he explained.

“Oh, don’t worry about that. Shigeru’s father can take you home. You’re staying with your father, aren’t you? Shigeru mentioned your mother was away. Fiji? Is that right?”

“Mmm. But the bus is f-fine, thank you.” He stood up and gave a bow. “I should go.”

“In this weather? No, sit down a while longer,” she said, addressing him properly. Her smile faltered and her gaze flickered to Shigeru. “You’re wet, Kyoutani-kun. Shigeru, go and find him some dry clothes.”

“I’m okay.”

“It’s not a problem,” she replied, with some steel in her voice. “Shigeru!”

“Yup, okay. I’ll … um …” Picking up the photo albums, he fled the kitchen for his bedroom, then pulled out a clean tee shirt, a pair of joggers and an oversized hoodie which generally hung off him.

Back in the kitchen, his mum was washing two cups and had put the kettle on. “Why were you looking at photo albums?” she asked.

“Dad’s birthday,” he mumbled, then nudged Kyoutani. “There are dry clothes on the bed.”

“I need to go.”

“You’ve got time. I’ll walk you there.”

“Go and get out of those wet things, and I’ll find you a bag,” she said lightly, and then once Kentarou had gone, she pulled on Shigeru’s arm. “I want the truth.”

“What?”

“One question,” she insisted. “Did he get that bruise yesterday in volleyball practice?”

He gulped, tried to evade her piercing eyes, but then shook his head miserably.

“He said it was one of your serves,” she whispered. “And he’s wet through, so I imagine he’s been out in this storm for a while. Is he really going back to his father’s?”

And however much he wanted to lie for Kentarou, he’d never been able to convincingly lie to his mother. “He’s going home. His mum’s place, I mean.”

“At this time of night! Why?”

“He … um … had a row with his dad. He won’t go back, Mum. I tried to persuade him, and even said he could stay the night.” He gulped. “He can stay, can’t he?”

“Yes, yes, of course!” she said, swatting away the question. “But we’ll have to let his father know.”

“He does. I mean, they spoke to each other and he knows Kentarou’s with me and he’s not expecting him back.”

“Oh … kay,” she breathed. “Let me think.”

“Uh… I’ll be going,” Kyoutani muttered from the door. He grimaced at Shigeru. “Um… that … uh … you were going to lend me that … um…”

“Shigeru’s father can drive you,” his mum said, sounding careless and turned fixing on her widest smile. “Or, as it’s getting late, you can stay here.”

“Stay here?”

“Yes, of course. Shigeru, go and find the spare futon. We can set it up in the lounge.” Her smile didn’t fade. “As long as your father doesn’t mind.”

“Um… he won’t.” He stared at Shigeru, who smiled back feebly, and then at the floor. “Thanks.”

“That’s settled then,” she said briskly as she passed Kentarou in the doorway. “Right, I need to get out of these wet clothes. So, why don’t you call your father, and Shigeru can make us all drinks.”

Kentarou waited until he heard the bedroom door shut. “You told her, didn’t you.”

“Uh… sort of. Not everything. She means well.” He swallowed. “Sorry, I couldn’t think what to say. She figured it out and—”

“Thought so. You’re shit at lying.”

“At least you have a bed for tonight, and tomorrow things might look better,” Shigeru replied and reached out to squeeze Kentarou’s arm. “How did you get that bruise?”

He didn’t quite wrench away, but the aura around him hardened like a shield. “I fell over, all right!”

“Fell?”

“You said we didn’t have to talk,” Kentarou seethed, staring him right in the eyes. “ _You_ weren’t going to push me. If this is what’s going to happen then I’m out of here.”

“Okay!” Shigeru plucked on Kentarou’s sleeve, just as lightning flashed through the window, casting a sudden flame across Kentarou’s face. “I’m sorry. No more questions.”

Hearing the front door, Kyoutani jerked away.

“Ugh, it’s awful out there,” Shigeru’s dad called out, and padded his way into the kitchen. He smiled on seeing their guest, seemingly not at all taken aback. “Kyoutani-kun, this is a surprise. Have the pair of you been out?”

“No, he came over,” Shigeru replied, adding with determination. “And is staying the night.”

Completely oblivious to the fermenting atmosphere, his dad wandered across to the cupboard, pulling out some crisps and bowls. “Ah… good. Our night has been completely ruined, but with you here perhaps we can all play poker.” He grinned. “Or even better Monopoly.”

His Mum kyboshed that idea, declaring she was tired as soon as she reappeared and was going to read a book. “Watch a DVD or something if you want,” she told Shigeru, “but don’t stay up too late, okay?”

“Ah. My cue to leave, then,” Shigeru’s dad said and chuckled. “I shall take a whisky to bed and leave the crisps for you. And tomorrow, I shall treat you to my world famous pancakes for breakfast.”

“Yeah, yeah, Dad,” Shigeru mumbled. “That’s great.”

“Ah, I’ve embarrassed him now, Kyoutani-kun. Parents are good at that. It’s our job. But my pancakes are good. You’ll like them.” He gave a wink, then reached for a glass and poured himself a small whisky and ice. “And now I’ll leave you alone. Have fun.”

Cringing, Shigeru swivelled back to Kentarou after his dad had sauntered to his bedroom. “Sorry, he’s so… so … um … full on! It’s embarrassing at times.”

“He’s … nice,” Kentarou replied. “They… uh … don’t have a problem with me being here, then?”

“Hum, well, no.” He plucked Kentarou closer, kissing him soft on the cheek. “They like you, you know. Some people do.”

But when Kyoutani didn’t respond, he released him and picked up the crisps, emptying them into bowls, while holding in a sigh. “Want to watch a movie? Your choice.”

“Uh.” As if unable to believe he was being let off so lightly, Kyoutani blinked. “Um… can we watch sport instead?”

“As long as it’s not golf or fishing.”

“Ugh! No. Soccer.”

“Cool, what’s on?”

“There’re some European matches. I watch it when I can. My stepdad’s not keen and neither’s mum, but when I’m with —” Stopping abruptly, he twisted away. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter. We c’n watch a movie if you want.”

“I like football,” Shigeru insisted. “And it’ll be good to have someone to watch it with because my Dad isn’t exactly a fan either.”

“Don’t pretend.” He was brooding again.

“Stop that!” Shigeru shoved the bowl of crisps at Kentarou’s chest. “I like football. It’s not pretence and it’s not pity, so scrub that from your mind too. Now shut up and eat the fucking crisps, Kyoutani.”

He actually snorted, but tipped his head obediently. “Aye, aye Yahaba-san. Gonna make me serve twenty times more than everyone else if I don’t?”

“Hmm, let me think,” he retorted, both hands on his hips, and leant forwards. “ _No_ … because you’d enjoy that too much!”

“You’re not cute, you know that?” Kentarou said, and in a sudden movement tugged at one of Shigeru’s curls. “Not at all. And you have dumb hair.” But then, just as he hesitated and Shigeru through he was going to run his fingers through his hair, before pulling him close, Kentarou stepped backwards and into the sitting room.

He settled down to watch the television, arms folded firmly across his chest as if he were cold, sitting stiff and upright, only relaxing when the programme had started and the first game highlights began.

“Bundeslige, I like this,” he muttered.

“Why?”

“Like the way the Germans play. Very direct. Competitive… Effective.”

“Prefer Serie A myself. More flair.”

“Mmm, thought you might.” He almost smiled. “You can’t tell me the German league isn’t as skilful.”

They continued to chat throughout the first half of the show, swapping ideas, Kentarou jerking forwards to watch a particularly good piece of play. And as they bantered, he unfurled, the tension in his shoulders lessening and the etched in scowl becoming far less pronounced. Watching as he reached for crisps, Shigeru devised to stretch too, letting their fingers touch. But Kentarou, withdrew his hand with a muffled apology, and went back to watching the game.

Hmm.

“Shall I get a blanket?”

“Huh?”

“Are you cold? I could get a blanket for us?”

“I’m fine.”

Shigeru stood up. “I’ll get one anyway. You’ll need it later.”

When he returned, Kentarou was staring up at the ceiling, not even reacting when a goal was scored.

“Hey,” Shigeru said, and dropped the blanket between them. “What’s up?”

“Oh, you know. Normal things. Chucked out the house. Nowhere to go. Camping on a sofa.”

“You’ve argued with him before. It’ll be fine.”

“Not this time.”

“Want to talk about it?” Shigeru asked and sat a little closer.

“Not really, but you’re not going to give up are you? It’s like you genuinely think talking about stuff sorts it out.”

“In my experience it generally does,” Shigeru murmured, trying hard not to sound defensive. “It did with us, don’t you think?”

“And maybe things would be better if we kept our fucking mouths shut,” he growled back. Then modified it. “Some things.”

“Please talk to me,” Shigeru implored. “I want to be here for you.”

“I know.” He took in a breath, ran one hand over his face and through his hair and then twisted sideways to face him. “It was a dumb argument over my hair, that’s all. But it went too far and … and … I can’t go back ...”

“Maybe you just need space to clear the air?” Shigeru suggested.

“Yeah, maybe.”

He couldn’t shake the feeling he was being lied to. Maybe there was a germ of truth in the story but there was something missing, something Shigeru couldn’t quite connect in his head.

“Um… but that bruise on your cheek.”

“Huh?” Raising his hand to his face, his brows knitted again. “I fell,” Kentarou said succinctly. “I feel dumb enough, so can we shut up about it now?”

“Sure.” He shook out the blanket, covering his knees and then shifted closer. “Fancy a snog instead? That’d shut me up.”

“Uh…” He didn’t quite flinch, but there was a definite hesitation. “Your parents?”

“Aren’t here.”

”They’re in the next room.” He grimaced. “Look, I just want to watch football.”

“It’s the adverts.” He moved even closer, pouting his lips to Kentarou’s cheek. “Come on, my parents won’t mind.”

“I do!” Kentarou snapped. Arms folded across his chest he ducked his head. “Don’t… please. Not tonight.”

“Right.”

He inched away, hugged his knees to his chest and watched as some grinning wannabe actor tried to sell him toothpaste. Out of the corner of his eye, Kentarou sat ramrod straight, seemingly fully focused on the television, hands gripped into fists. And a memory of when he’d first met him flashed into Shigeru’s mind—a boy at fifteen, surly and not wanting to show how eager he was, listening acutely to everything the coach said. But then slipping into defiance and apathy as his senpais ragged on him. The story at the time had been that Kyoutani Kentarou could not hack the routine and discipline required; it was only down to his return and subsequently fixing his place in the first team, that Shigeru had discovered a whole host of other reasons behind his initial disappearance.

Since they’d been together, they’d had ups and downs, fought fitfully and fretfully over dumb arguments and miscommunication, but at the heart of their relationship there’d always been a physical bond, a chemistry that had tugged them back together, soothing away the troubles with a touch.

The programme finished, yet Kentarou continued to watch the screen, not moving an inch or indicating he was even aware it was over.

Stretching out, Shigeru graced his fingertips across Kentarou’s hand, hoping he would relax, clasp Shigeru, interlocking their fingers. It would at least be a start, a signal they were facing whatever it was together and Kentarou wasn’t about to storm away again. In a split-second he knew it was the wrong move, as Kentarou, with his whip like reflexes, batted him out the way.

“Don’t!”

“I wondered if you wanted a drink, that’s all,” Shigeru snapped, then bit his lip. “Sorry. I was going to get a glass of water. Do you want anything?”

He shook his head, then gave a big yawn, not even bothering to stifle it. “Sleep. I’m tired.”

“Ah, sure. There’s a larger tee on the bed roll if you want to sleep in that. I’ll … um … leave you to it.”

“Mmm.” He reached for the remote, switched off the TV, then twisted around a little, his body facing Shigeru’s even if his eyes wouldn’t look at him. “Thanks.”

Guessing he should be thankful for that, Shigeru left Kentarou to it, and flopped onto his own bed. He knew it was dumb to feel miserable. It was Kentarou who was suffering, far more than he’d ever let on, and what he clearly needed now was support and space and not a boyfriend hassling him for reassurance, but then Shigeru couldn’t change what he was overnight too, and the fact that they were only separated now by a thin wall and yet he still didn’t feel remotely close, was looming strong in his mind.

Sleep didn’t come easy. He tried by thinking over Irihata-san’s last team talk, but all he could remember was Kyoutani trying not to roll his eyes, so he switched to devising new complicated plays in his head, but however hard he tried, Kyoutani kept barging into each scenario, securing the spike that had been sent to Kunimi, the rippling power in his arms causing the stadium to quake.

In the end, consigning himself to never sleeping ever again, Shigeru pushed his head into the pillow and concentrated his energy on everything that had happened since Kentarou had turned up. He analysed every word, every glance and sigh, went over each nuanced phrase (ignoring the fact that Kyoutani was always direct rather than nuanced) but still he couldn’t resolve the story he had heard and what his instinct was telling him.

Michiko … he’d said it wasn’t her fault.

Why would an argument about his hair be her fault? And how had that escalated into Kentarou walking out of his Dad’s and making his way through a storm to get to Shigeru’s?

And still he thought about the bruise on the side of Kentarou’s face. The one he said he’d got by falling over.

That his mum was suspicious about too.

At last drifting off, somewhere his subconscious was lulling him with his mum’s voice murmuring ‘Kentarou-kun’ and low growl of conversation.

He woke up to his Dad’s voice telling him breakfast would be ready in five minutes. Staggering out of bed, he managed to find the bathroom free and jumped into the shower. Emerging in record time, with wet hair and still damp skin, he pulled on some clothes then barrelled into the kitchen to find Kentarou sitting next to his Mum, the pair of them already tucking into pancakes and blackberries.

“Knowing how long you usually take in the bathroom, we didn’t wait,” his mum said.

“You could have called me,” he muttered, trying to keep the husk out of his throat.

“I did,” his dad replied, then with a smile handed him a plate. “Come on, eat up. Busy day ahead.”

“Is there coffee?”

“In the pot,” his mum replied and nudged it towards him.

Kentarou hadn’t said a word, but in between bites, he nodded a curt good morning to him.

He looked as if he’d had a disgustingly good sleep and Shigeru could practically feel the bags under his eyes puffing even more in protest.

“What do you mean ‘Busy Day’?” he asked his dad. “It’s Saturday. You’re not working, are you?”

“Nope. Your mother’s working in the morning, and I’ll drive you both to volleyball practise later, but we’re stopping on the way.” His attention flickered to Kentarou, who swallowed before answering.

“Need to pick up my phone and stuff,” he muttered. “Yahaba-san said he’d drive me there.”

“I’ve told Kentarou-kun that he is welcome to stay here if he wants to,” Shigeru’s mum put in casually.

“Do you want to?” Shigeru blurted out because Kentarou was shifting awkwardly in his chair.

“It’s … it’s very kind,” Kentarou replied gruffly, “but if it’s all right with my mum and stepdad, I’m going to go back to theirs.”

“Well, just so you know that you are welcome here any time,” his mum said, and she leant over to squeeze his hand.

And what surprised Shigeru the most was that Kentarou not only accepted the show of support from his Mum, but even gave her a flickering smile before reaching for his glass of water and taking a gulp.

“What time is practise?” his dad asked, breaking into the silence.

“Ten-thirty. But I should be there earlier.” He chewed the side of his mouth and glanced at Kentarou. “Are you calling your mum?”

“She’s due to call around then. They’re three hours ahead.”

“So you want to speak to her first?”

He shrugged. “I don’t much mind, but it depends if I have my phone. She calls me and Micchan, not Dad.” Sniffing, he finished off the last pancake on his plate. “Sorry,” he said, and this time looked directly at Shigeru, “but can we talk about something else? I’ll do my best to be at practise, if that’s the problem.”

“There’s no problem. I just… just…” Oh, what was the point? His mum was now giving him daggers while his Dad looked on with his usual bemusement, and he was once again out of the loop and not knowing what was going on. “I was going to say you can use my phone if you want, that’s all.”

“I could probably come with you,” his mum said after a while. “I need to check on the residents, but apart from that…”

But just as she was debating, and Kentarou was looking at her with alarm, her phone rang and she dashed out of the room.

“That’s the trouble with being on call,” she cried, and Shigeru could see her grabbing her coat and bag, “Mitsuhana-san has run out of her medication. I’m sorry, I’ll have to fly.”

Shigeru caught up with her at the door. “What’s happened?”

“What do you mean?”

“What’s Kentarou said to you?”

“I can’t talk now. I have to go,” she murmured. “Just … wait for him, Shigeru. Don’t push, all right?”

“I don’t push!” he protested.

She cupped his face in her hands, bestowing a small peck on his forehead. “Yes, you do, and sometimes that’s a good thing but for now wait for him to talk.”

“Mum, I—”

“I have to go. But trust me and don’t over-think!”

Sitting back at the table, he finished his pancakes and drank his coffee. Kentarou was talking to his dad, or rather he was answering questions in a polite way, not at all the gruff responses he gave to his stepdad. He looked at Shigeru only when the latter got to his feet to clear the table.

“I’ll help,” Kentarou muttered.

“That’s fine. You’re a guest.”

“Uninvited,” he replied, but only so Shigeru could hear. Picking up his plate and mug, he followed Shigeru to the sink.

“Still welcome, though,” Shigeru replied, and taking his mother’s words to heart he didn’t push, but did add, “And you can stay for longer. You don’t have to leave.”

“I know. I’m just …” He tried a smile but it failed and became a grim line. “I miss the dogs.” Then, splaying his hands on the draining board, he cast a side glance at Shigeru. “Uh… I know I was… um … last night … I—”

“Forget it. It’s fine.”

“Um… right.” Screwing up his face, he started again. “Can I borrow your phone? I need to call Micchan.”

He twisted around, and by angling his face, he met Kentarou’s eyes. “Was that really that hard to ask? Of course you can!”

“Your dad’s said I should call my dad, let him know I’m calling round,” Kentarou mumbled. “But … I don’t … there’s a reason and it’s just easier if I call her and let her deliver the message.” He shut his eyes tight. “You think I’m a coward, right?”

“No.” Touching him on the shoulder, Shigeru gave him a smile. “I think you know him best, so it’s up to you.”

For a second, maybe more, he thought Kentarou was going to sink back into him, but then his shoulders tensed again and he flinched, his head turning to where Shigeru’s dad was still sitting, drinking his second cup of coffee and reading his paper.

“My phone’s charging in my bedroom,” he said, and continued to rinse the plates. “On the desk.”

“Thanks.” He ducked his head, gave a small grimace and then left the kitchen. Soon after, Shigeru heard his bedroom door open and close.

“You’ll wash the pattern off those plates,” his dad remarked mildly, peering over his paper. “When does practise finish?”

“Twelve-thirty.” Shouldn’t he know by now? It was always the same, every Saturday.

“Would you like a lift back? It looks like it might rain again.”

“Um… I don’t know what Kyoutani wants to do. I’ll … uh … we can get the bus.”

“Of course you have a date. Cinema, wasn’t it?”

He shuffled his feet, drying his hands on a towel. “Nothing’s booked. I’m not sure …. um … I need to pack my kit bag up.”

Scooting out of the kitchen, he was about to barrel into his bedroom (anything to avoid his dad being ‘reasonable’ and talking about ‘dates’) when he heard Kentarou on the phone to his sister, so he backed away desperate not to be thought of as eavesdropping.

The door slid open. “Sorry, come in,” Kyoutani muttered. “No, Micchan that was to Yahaba. Look, it’s fine, I’ll sort it. I’ll see you soon, okay?” He touched the phone to his head, closing his eyes as he finished the call and then sunk back to the bed.

“Are you okay?” Shigeru asked, then waited for the snappy retort because of course he wasn’t okay.

But all Kentarou did was groan and run his hands down his face. “Mum knows. She called earlier because they’re going off to look at some crappy ruined temple or something.”

“Knows what exactly?”

“That I had a row with dad. That I walked out. Micchan said she told her I’d gone out early, but Dad took the phone and …” He slumped further into himself. “Micchan says there was a lot of shouting. She’s really upset.”

“It’s not your fau-,” Shigeru started to say, stopping when Kentarou glared at him.

“It is. That’s the thing. I should have kept my mouth shut, but I didn’t and now this whole thing is fucking imploding on me.”

Warily, he joined him on the bed, not touching but within reach. “Look, I don’t know what’s happened, but what I meant was that them shouting at each other isn’t your fault.”

“But I know what they’re like. I know what Dad’s like and I’ve inherited his fucking bad temper. But yesterday…” Trailing off, he stared at the ceiling. “He pushed and I pushed and something just went, you know. Like red mist and … and … it’s not fair on Micchan. I can take it. I lived with their fucking rows for longer than she did. I don’t think she remembers how bad it used to get, but I do. Like, my stepdad might be a dick, but at least Mum’s happier now and we’re kind of calm, y’know.”

“So… what do you want to do? Go back and talk to your dad?”

“No. Right now I don’t want to see him. I need to get my stuff, call mum, or at least send her a message, and then—” He laughed at himself. “I wanna hit some serves over a net and scare Kunimi into action.”

“Well.” Shigeru squeezed Kentarou’s hand. “That can be arranged.”

“Just hope Dad’s not burnt my kit,” he muttered and disentangled himself rather sharply.

“Huh? Burnt your kit?”

“Volleyball’s where it all started going wrong for me, apparently,” he said getting to his feet. He sniffed. “Bit ironic as he took me to my first match and got me hooked. He wants to pull me off the team and out of school.”

“What?! H-how can he…” Shigeru blinked. “Can he do that?”

“Worried about your team, Captain?”

“You know that’s not the reason!”

He gave a sardonic snort. “Don’t worry. Mum’ll never agree or I’d have left last year.”

His Dad’s shout reminded him of the reason he’d come back to his room, so he pulled out his kitbag, checked he had everything, then, when Kentarou wasn’t looking, he added kit, just in case he wasn’t joking about his dad burning his stuff.

The trouble was Shigeru didn’t know Kentarou’s dad at all. They’d met once or twice after volleyball, but purely as a parent picking up his kid, offhand but snapping out congratulations when they’d won. He’d seemed … aloof, but then Kentarou was distant—even now—whereas his mum was far more approachable and if she picked him up from practise, she’d always smile, greeting the coaches with questions and on one occasion bringing a tin of brownies with her.

“Shouldn’t we go?” Kentarou muttered. “Your dad’s calling us.”

“Mmm, you ready?”

He straightened his shoulders, reminding Shigeru—oddly—of Oikawa when he was about to lead his team out. “It’s fine. I’ll pick up my bag, make sure Micchan’s okay and then leave.”

“I’ll be there for you.”

“Uh…” He looked him straight in the eyes. “No offence, but be better if you stayed in the car.”

“If you need me though,” Shigeru insisted. “He won’t … um … do anything if… um.”

With a slight shake of his head, Kentarou left the room, but loitered in the hallway. “I fell over. How many times am I gonna have to tell you that before you believe me.”

The car journey was silent, apart from the radio Shigeru’s dad put on probably to alleviate the quiet. Sitting in the back with the bags, Shigeru watched Kentarou in the front and waited for him to turn around, to peek into the mirror and give his tight smile, but he’d turned his head very deliberately to the side and was looking out of the window as he chewed his thumbnail.

“It’s that one,” he muttered as they turned up a street, pointing to an apartment block.

“Do you want either of us to come with you?” Shigeru’s dad asked, adding quickly, “How much stuff do you have?”

He shook his head. “Uh… one, two bags. Not much. I hadn’t unpacked properly so I won’t be long.”

But it took him a good few seconds to open the car door and leave. His hands furling into fists as he took a deep breath.

“I could—” Shigeru started.

“No,” he replied shortly, and then as he moved out of the car, he finally looked at him. “It’ll be fine, Shigeru.”

“You don’t have to tell me, of course,” his dad murmured as Kentarou approached the steel stairs. “But what did they argue about?”

“He says it was his hair,” Shigeru replied, for a moment unguarded.

His dad pounced, albeit in his usual laconic way. “But you don’t believe him, eh?”

“They’ve argued before, but not this badly,” Shigeru admitted.

“Do you think this night apart has given them time to cool down?”

He shook his head, miserable because in some odd way he felt he was betraying Kentarou. “There’s something else going on, but he hasn’t said what it is. I th-think Mum knows.”

“Mmm, I suspect she does too, which is why I’m here giving you both a lift.” He peered out of the window. “Oh, he’s picked up a bag. I didn’t see him go in. Does that mean …” His hands gripped the steering wheel and he emitted a small soft sigh.

“The bags are on the doorstep?” Shigeru asked, and craned his neck out of the window. “He won’t even talk to him?”

“Maybe he’s not there?”

“Well, I guess, but—” He fiddled with the latch of the passenger seat.

“Or he doesn’t think another confrontation is helpful,” his dad said frowning. “Shigeru, what are you doing?”

“Getting out. I can help him with his bags.”

“He won’t thank—oh! Who’s that?”

“Who’s what?” The passenger seat door sprang open and he launched himself outside then heard a girl shriek and run down the corridor. “That’s Michiko—his sister.”

“Nii-san!” she called out.

“Micchan …” Dropping his bags, Kentarou crouched on the ground, holding out his arms. She ran into them, buried her head fiercely into his shoulder, and although Shigeru couldn’t hear the conversation, the body language spoke volumes about comfort and apologies… probably from both of them.

And then she peered over his shoulder, spied Shigeru and waved. Kentarou glowered, but he stood up, hoisted the two bags over his shoulder and held out his hand to his sister.

“Have we got time so she can say hi?” he called, sounding grouchy.

“Yes, plenty,” Shigeru breezed and grinned at her as she plodded down the stairs next to her brother in her bright pink shirt and shorts, half her hair braided, the other half hanging past her shoulders. “Hello, Michiko. Is that a new cool hairstyle that I need to copy?”

“No!” she grumped. “I can’t get it right today! They’re not even!” Releasing Kentarou’s hand she skipped across to him. “Can I come to volleyball with you both today?”

“Um…”

“It’s at school,” Kentarou interrupted. “You’re not allowed.” Staring down at her, he shook his head. “Come on, I’ll sort out that hair.”

Shigeru’s dad got out of the car, introduced himself and then swung Kentarou’s bags in the boot. “We’re early. Think I’ll get myself a coffee from that shop. Does anyone want anything? Water? Juice?”

“Already got that,” Shigeru replied

“We’re fine, thank you, Yahaba-san,” Kentarou said before his sister could say anything. He ran his fingers through her hair. “Where’s the tie?”

“Here!” She held it up to him. “Make sure it’s even and don’t pull too hard!”

“Have to if you want it level with the other,” he muttered. His fingers worked deftly through her hair, weaving it into a braid and ignoring her protests.

“Are you going to speak to Mum?” she asked, and looked up at him.

“Stay still!” he ordered, then glanced at Shigeru. “Yes, I will. I’ll call her when I get a chance.”

“She’s going on a trip.”

“Mmm, you said. I’ll send her a text and call her later. Don’t worry.”

“Are you staying at Yahaba-san’s tonight?” she whispered.

“Maybe.”

“He can if he wants,” Shigeru put in, realising, even if Kentarou didn’t, that she was worried.

“I’m going to ask Mum and Ossan if I can stay at the house.”

“Home!”

“Yeah.”

“Can I come?”

“Uh… probably not. Besides, you like staying with Dad.”

“Not as much fun without you.” She winced. “Ow, that hurts!”

“Sorry.” He patted her head. “Look, if you stay with Dad, then you can do all the things you like and won’t have to do any of my stuff. There, all done,” he said and twisted the bobble onto the end of the braid.

“Michiko!”

The three of them followed the voice, looking up. Michiko started forwards, then gripped her brother’s arm, but he—apart from an initial flinch—held his ground and stared back.

“Picked up your bags then.”

“Yep.”

“Made your decision.”

“Think you made that,” Kentarou muttered.

“Speak up. Or don’t you have the guts?”

“Yes, I’ve made my decision,” he snapped. “Not coming back.”

“Fine. Michiko, inside!” He started to walk along the corridor, hands skirting over the rail.

“He was braiding my hair,” she replied, still not moving. “That’s why I came out.”

He’d reached the stairs, his feet clumping in each step, as heavy footed as Kentarou was light. “This him, then?” he demanded, staring at Kentarou but indicting Shigeru.

When Kentarou did nothing but grunt. Shigeru bowed. “Yahaba Shigeru, Kyoutani-san. We’ve met before.”

He ignored him and beckoned to Michiko. “Inside now. I told you not to leave.”

“Don’t blame her!” Kentarou said, a little wearily. “She just wanted help braiding her hair!”

“Teach you that in volleyball do they?” he spat.

“No, it’s years of practise!”

“Practise? What, you want to be hairdresser now?”

“Getting her ready in the mornings,” he retorted.

“What?”

“Because…” He trailed off and cast a look down at his sister. “Doesn’t matter. Go on,” he said to her. “I’ll text you later.”

“Promise,” she demanded and held out her little finger.

“I am not doing pinky swears,” he protested.

“PROMISE!” she yelled looking fierce.

“I promise,” he said, and complied, linking their little fingers. “How am I supposed to look cool in front of Yahaba with you around?”

“You never do,” Shigeru said, deadpan.

Then the three of them laughed, Michiko shrill as Kentarou tickled her. And perhaps it was that, the laughter, or maybe it was the shared joke—the togetherness—but Kentarou’s dad turned on his heel and strode over to shove Shigeru in the chest.

“Stay away from my son,” he seethed, and tried to grab Kentarou’s arm. “You’re coming back with me!”

“No chance!” Kentarou shook himself free, stepping in front of Shigeru.

“Excuse me,” came a voice, a welcome interruption as Shigeru’s dad returned, coffee tray and a bag of sweets in his hand. “I’d ask you to stay away from my son.”

“You’re his dad? And you’re _happy_ with this situation. Your son—”

“Doesn’t tidy his room up and isn’t remotely interested in motorbikes or fishing,” Shigeru’s dad replied, his voice soft but with surprising authority, He pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. “Apart from that, he’s a good kid.”

“You do know what he is?”

“Hmm?”

_Oh God._ Shigeru cringed, noticing Kentarou was gritting his teeth and staring at his feet. “Dad, can we go?”

“Your son and my son,” Kyoutani-san muttered, seemingly suddenly aware they were in public and drawing some attention from a neighbour. “You know!”

“Yes, I know exactly what you mean. I’m … fine about it,” Yahaba-san continued. “I’m sure my son believes I think it’s a phase I’m waiting for him to pass, but really …” He flashed Shigeru a smile, who managed a weak one back. “I have no problem having a gay son, Kyoutani-san. I have a son that I’m proud of, and who I hope can talk to me if he has to.”

“And that means I have to be happy about it!”

“Not at all, but make sure you know what you could be losing,” Yahaba-san murmured, moving closer. “I argued with my father because he didn’t approve of my lifestyle. Things escalated and we were estranged for over a decade.”

_What?_

“Spare me the sob story. And you.” He jabbed his finger at Kentarou. “If you want to see your sister while she’s here, don’t turn up with him. Show some respect.”

“Respect!” Kentarou shouted, but his voice rasped. Angrily he dashed his hand up to his eye. “You won’t have to see me again, alright!”

“Good! And tell your _mother_ ,” he emphasised the word, loading it with disgust, “if you do actually speak to her that I’m not happy this … this … boy has been round to the house when Michiko’s been there.”

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

“That’s enough!” Yahaba-san interrupted. There was flare in his eyes, visible despite the glasses and a muscle pounded in his jaw. “I don’t like what you’re implying!”

“Or that you spent the night at his house!” Kyoutani-san continued, ignoring him. “Michiko, get inside.”

“Where else was I supposed to go?”

“Somewhere … normal.”

“What, so you’re telling me that if I’d stayed at a girlfriend’s that would have been fine!”

“Fat chance!”

“I’m guessing if I’d shagged her and knocked her up then you’d have been totally cool with that, right! History repeating itself and all that!”

“Keep your voice down,” Kyoutani-san hissed, aware of blinds twitching.

“Because yeah, great, bring kids into the world and then screw them up because you can’t even be civil to each other, right?”

“What are you—”

Michiko bundled herself into a ball, covering her ears with her hands. Noticing, Shigeru reached out to warn Kentarou, but he shook his hand off, not to be deflected now his hackles were up.

“You want to know why I can braid her hair?” he snarled. “Why I should have a f— fricking diploma in girls’ hair braids? Because someone had to! You and Mum were so busy rowing you forgot about us!”

His father blanched, his shoulders dropping. “That’s not true.”

But Kyoutani straightened his shoulders, broadening his chest in the process and stared his dad in the eye. “That’s what it felt like.”

“That’s you all over,” his dad replied, his voice shaking. “Blame everyone else. Nothing’s ever your fault, Kentarou. It was the same with that trouble at school and then when you chucked in volleyball, and now … this. Can’t face up to your own shortcomings and lack of discipline.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” A sob from behind him, and belatedly he remembered his sister, so he bent down to her. “Sorry,” Kentarou mumbled.

“Michiko, come inside with me,” their dad muttered and held out his hand.

Kentarou nudged her. “Go on,” he whispered. “It’s me he’s angry with, not you.”

“ _Promise_ you’ll message me.”

“Hey, I pinky-swore on it.” And with a last ruffle of her hair, he smiled sadly and then watched as she trudged away with her dad.

“It was about me, wasn’t it. The row?” Shigeru said.

“Sort of.” Groaning, Kentarou pressed his palms into his forehead. “Can we not talk about it now? I wanna slam some serves over the net.”

Shigeru’s dad dropped them off at practise, saying he’d return to pick them up. “That way you won’t have to carry your bags around with you, Kyoutani-kun.” He smiled, a little too forcedly, but wouldn’t brook any argument. “If your mother says it’s fine for you to go home, then I’ll drive you there,” he finished, before throwing the packet of sweets at Shigeru ‘for energy’ and then driving off.

“Is this his way of saying I have to stay at yours?” Kentarou muttered.

“Dad’s straightforward and means what he says. He won’t want you wandering the streets,” Shigeru replied. “I’m pretty sure he thought things could be smoothed over with your Dad, but he won’t take you back there now.”

“Oh, right.” Sniffing, he rummaged in his kitbag, pulling out his phone. “Damn, it’s out of charge.”

“I have a charger,” Shigeru said and handed it over. “You can send her a quick text, while it’s charging, then call her later.”

“Mmm.”

As the others joined them, most needing to exchange some words with their Captain, Kentarou slunk off to a corner, and stared at his phone. In the end, after a hapless glance over his shoulder at Shigeru, he appeared to be satisfied, hit send and then hurriedly got changed.

“Things okay?” Shigeru asked as they entered the gym.

“Yeah, just sent a brief text saying I was fine and was with you.” He grimaced. “That’ll reassure her. She thinks you’re such a ‘nice’ boy.”

“And you make that sound like such a bad thing,” Shigeru muttered, mock-archly.

“Sorry.”

“No, no, I didn’t…” He pulled on his arm, and whispered, “I was joking. I don’t—”

“Yahaba-kun,” called Coach Irihata witheringly. “If you’ve finished your conversation, we’d like to start.”

“Ah, sure. Sorry.” Releasing Kentarou, he jogged forwards, ready to stand in the centre of the semi-circle in front of the coaches. Watari stepped up to his left hand side, while Kindaichi and Kunimi stood a little further back. Kentarou took his usual place on the outside, arms folded across his chest, but he was staring intently and clearly listening.

It was the normal Saturday practise session. Starting with a run outside, Shigeru stayed with the first years leaving Watari to encourage the other Liberos. Kindaichi, he knew, would stick with Kunimi making sure he didn’t slack off. Usually Kentarou would run at the side, alone, but never going off too far until the sprint at the end. It was his way of getting round, admitting once to Shigeru that the constant chat of other people irritated him. If he could have plugged himself into music, he’d have been happier, Shigeru thought, but Irihata-san wasn’t a fan and banned all phones from the gym. This week, however, instead of keeping within arm’s contact, he sped off from the start, his arms and legs powering against the air.

“Wow, what’s got into him?” Watari asked.

And Shigeru would have told him, or at least he’d have hinted at Kentarou’s inner turmoil, but because they were surrounded by the others, he merely shrugged. “He said something about wanting to up his power.”

“Odd,” Kindaichi muttered.

“What’s odd about that?” Shigeru demanded

“No… um … sorry … he reminded me of someone… from uh … Junior High.”

“He means Kageyama,” Kunimi said, already panting (although that was probably for effect as no real effort had been expended). “He used to chase the senpais, then when they left, we thought he’d drop back with us, but no, he just ran. Mad-Dog has that look about him of not wanting to mix with us lower mortals in case we hold him back.”

“I don’t think it’s that,” Watari put in. “It must be frustrating if you’re faster than everyone else and there’s no challenge. It was probably the same with Kageyama. ”

“Fortunately at this rate, he’ll tire himself out and his serves won’t be quite so blistering and wayward,” Kunimi murmured to Kindaichi, no doubt thinking Shigeru couldn’t hear him.

“Would you like to test that hypothesis by being his receives partner?” Shigeru retorted waspishly.

He faltered. “Uh… I’d really rather not, Yahaba-san.”

“Tell you what, Kunimi- _chan_!” he said, trying to sound honey-sweet. “If you can get close to him instead of continually carping, then maybe I’ll find someone else for you to partner.”

With a dark look, Kunimi put his head down, stopped grousing and picked up his pace. Never one to be out of it, Kindaichi followed and soon the first years sped up too, leaving Shigeru at the back with Watari.

“What’s got into you?” Watari asked.

“Nothing,” he snapped, then swallowed. “Was I too harsh?”

“No, sometimes Kunimi needs a kick up his complacent arse.” He ran a few more paces. “Are you and Kentarou still on for the cinema?”

“Probably not.” He slowed, hoping Shinji wasn’t going to mind, but it had been a tenuous arrangement at best. “He has something to sort out. And, much as I love you and Ishigawa-san, I don’t want to be the spare part.”

“Aww!” Watari punched his arm. “You’re never spare, but … yeah … I take your point. Shame because now we can’t outvote her choice of film and it’ll be that dumb dog film.”

“Hum, Kentarou would have chosen that too,” Shigeru laughed. Then he checked to see where Kentarou was, and seeing as he was still powering ahead with no let up in speed, he picked up the pace. “Hell, we’re quite far behind now.”

“Okay, speeding up. Beaten by Kunimi … I’m not sure I can face the embarrassment.”

They caught the first years, Watari even managing to snap at Kunimi’s heels, with an unprecedented turn of speed. As he panted across the line, Shigeru looked to the side, expecting to see Kentarou leaning off a post, drinking water. But instead he’d picked up a ball and was already bouncing it off the wall while he waited for the session to resume.

He looked happier, or at least less tense, than he’d been on starting the session. The run appeared to have cleared out some of the clouds in his mind and he even gave Shigeru a brief smile when, panting, he wandered over.

“Wow, you were fast today!”

“Fuelled by rage,” Kentarou replied. “Is that what you’re thinking?”

“Something like that.”

“More like Kunimi and Kindaichi were next to me and I didn’t want to have to ‘chat’.” He airquoted the word and scowled as they entered the gym, Kindaichi dripping from having emptied his bottle of water over his head. “Then for some reason they both sped up and apparently coming second to those muppets isn’t something I ever want to do.”

“I told Kunimi if he came last, he’d have to receive all your serves today.”

He tossed his head out and let out a bark of a laugh. “That’s why he was so eager. Dumbass!”

“I might do it anyway as it seems to keep both of you motivated.”

“Ha! I don’t need any more motivation. Not today!” Kentarou seethed.

Standing his ground, Shigeru sipped his water. “Why’s that?”

He tempered the aggression with a slight tilt of his head. “Because today is Prove Every Fucker Wrong Day, okay?”

“Including me?”

Kentarou gave an infinitesimally small shrug then stomped back into the gym, bouncing the ball on the floor then keeping it up in the air on his knees. As he was usually so still while waiting for instructions, Irihata stared at him for a few seconds, but instead of blowing up, he waited for Kentarou to finish, and then shook his head and began dishing out instructions.

They started with some three on threes, quick fired games to fully warm everyone up and to sharpen the reflexes. It was an exercise Shigeru liked, but one he knew the slow-starter in Kentarou didn’t, even if it was the best way to get him in the zone. Today he didn’t scowl any disapproval, but took his place in the first group and although he wasn’t sharp from the start, towards the end of his stint, he managed a tight inner shot which wiped the line and fooled even Watari.

Later, after a one-set game, which left Shigeru on the losing side, but Kentarou, Watari and Kindaichi on the winning side, they lined up to start the final part of the session: serves and receives. Instead of lounging at the back, Kentarou pushed forwards, picked up a ball and had clear satisfaction in being selected to go first.

He let off a serve of such power, his back whiplashing with the effort, that Shigeru doubted even Ushijima could have withstood the force. Fortunately for Watari who stood the other side the net, it landed past the line, and he’d already adjudged it to be out.

“Felt that,” he yelled, fanning his face. “Wouldn’t mind keeping my arms with the next one, Kyoutani-kun?”

“Mad-Dog’s on fire!” Kindaichi muttered, a little troubled but also awed.

He released another serve, this one Watari leapt for but it was too fast even for him and slightly out of position, it ricocheted off his arm instead of being cleanly dug. If there’d been another player on the court, with miraculous reflexes, then maybe it could have been saved, but Kentarou punched the air, claiming an ace.

He was on fire now, aflame with success, the problem being that without the tempering effect of his teammates, he was in danger of burning everything in front of him.

_Slow down,_ Shigeru willed, but Kentarou was clearly at his least telepathic, tossed the ball high into the air and whipped another ball to the far corner.

Way out! But the sound of the ball gave more heat to the power and Kunimi standing close by, dodged the missile, leaving one of the first years to act as ball-boy.

“One more?” Kentarou asked, not sounding hopeful. But to his and Shigeru’s surprise, Irihata-san agreed.

“Get that aim right and you’re unstoppable, Kyoutani-kun,” Irihata called out. “You over-extended your arm on that last one. Minor adjustment and …” He trailed off, raised his hands to his lips as if in prayer and waited.

He listened. The serve was more measured, with maybe three quarters of the power, but the aim was perfection. In the left hand corner, leaving Watari stranded. Except for his foot. On more of a wing and a prayer, as he told Shigeru afterwards, he stuck out his leg and hoofed the ball up into the air, where it flew off court, and then he overbalanced and rolled across the court.

“I’ll give you that one, Mad-Dog,” Watari said, and laughed.

With a grin and a slight bow, Kentarou stood back from the baseline. “Do you want me to receive, sensei?” he asked politely.

“A little later. Cool off for a while and watch the others. “Yahaba-san, how about you next. Watari, are you staying there?”

“I can … when I’ve got my breath back.”

Laughing, Shigeru stepped forwards, picking up a ball and bouncing it on the floor. Without thinking, he tried Kentarou’s trick of earlier, but after one bounce off his knee, the ball flopped to the floor. He flipped at it with his foot, trying a fancy twisty kick he’d seen on the television the night before, but under his auspices the ball remained stubbornly grounded and trickled under his legs. He turned, tripped and fell forwards, arms windmilling to save himself then lurched into the store cupboard doorframe.

“FUCK!” he yelled as his face hit wood.

“Language!” reprimanded Irihata, but he strolled over assessing in an instant. “Your nose is bleeding. Get off the court and get that looked at.” His eyes scanned the room. “Kyoutani,” he rapped, “as you’re done, find the first aid box and sort him out.”

Clutching his nose with a bunched up part of his bib, Shigeru allowed Kentarou to lead him off to the changing room. He ignored the instruction to sit down and wait, instead staggering across to the sinks in the corner to stare at himself in the mirror. Touching his nose gingerly, he was slightly heartened by it not hurting quite as much as he assumed a broken nose would. Also, it didn’t look crooked or too bruised the way Hanamaki-san’s had once after a practise accident.

“Oi, stop admiring yourself and sit down!” Kentarou ordered, approaching with the first aid box. “Wow, that’s a mess!”

“Thanks.”

“The bib I meant, not your pretty face. Does it hurt?”

“Not much. Feels numb. Ughh, I’m such a klu…” He staggered forwards, suddenly feeling a wave of heat flush over him.

“Hey.” Kentarou caught him, hoisting him across to a bench and made sure he sat down before handing over a wad of tissues. “Put that over your nose. Pinch as hard as you can unless it hurts too much. Want some water?”

“Mmm, my bottle’s in my bag.”

He was back in a second, handing Shigeru water and also something that rustled. “Your dad’s sweets. Might help if you’re feeling faint. Is he psychic?”

“No, just thinks I’m still five.” Opening the packet, he stuffed some jellies in his mouth. “These are good though. Help yourself.”

“Let me sort you out first before Irihata sees us having a picnic.” With his hand, he tilted Shigeru’s chin upwards, peeled away the wadding, and peered at his nose. Then he dabbed at the blood with wet cotton wool, gently cleaning with soft sweeping strokes. “It’s quite swollen.”

“Probably looks worse than it is.”

“Mmm.” He rocked back on his heels and tilted his head to the side, and his narrow amber eyes pierced through, forcing Shigeru to meet him. “So, when someone asks what are you going to tell them?”

“That I fell over, of course.”

“And if they persist? Like, if your mum doesn’t believe you and continues to ask, what’ll you do?”

“I fell over!”

“Mmm, you tripped over the ball. It happens.”

_Oh._

“Is that what you did then,” he asked quietly.

“I stepped on one of Micchan’s roller skates and slammed into the door. Klutzy move and very uncool.”

“So why did you…”

“What? I told you I fell.”

“But you told mum a volleyball hit you.”

“Because I knew what it looked like, so I made something up.” He paused, then took Shigeru’s hand—the hand still holding the tissue wad—and moved it back to his nose. “You’re still bleeding. I’m gonna get some ice.”

It was as he returned, with a cup half full of ice chips from the vending machine, that his phone rang. He frowned, picked it out of his bag, and turned away. “Hello, Mum,” he muttered, then turned, gave Shigeru a grim type of smile and plonked himself down on another bench. “I’m still at practise. No, we’re not finished yet, but I’m in the changing room. Yeah, carry on.”

…

“I can’t stay there. Look, I’m sorry he called you. And I’m sorry I argued with him.”

…

“No, I’m not talking about it right now, Mum. I’m not on my own for one thing!”

…

“She’s fine. Saw her earlier.”

…

“I don’t know. She wasn’t in the room with us when it kicked off.” He breathed, and even though he was sat away from him, Shigeru could hear his mum’s voice.

He cut into her argument. “Mum, look, I shouldn’t really be on the phone right now. Irihata will skin me alive if he finds me, but please is it okay if I go back to the house and stay there?”

…

He rolled his eyes. “Of course I’m asking you!”

…

“I stayed at Yahaba’s. I told you that.”

…

Frowning at her raised voice, he stuck his hand out. “Talk to her, will you? She’s convinced I dossed on the street.”

“Um, okay.” He swallowed down some sweets, adjusted the tissue wad, and for some reason known only to his psyche, fixed a smile on his face.

Kentarou snorted.

Shit, what was his Mum’s married name now? He swallowed. “Uh… hello … uh … Arakawa-san.”

“Yahaba-kun? Is it all right speaking like this? Only Kentarou’s always told me that your Coach disapproves of phones at practice.”

“Um, he does, but it’s just us in the changing room. I have a nosebleed.”

“Oh.” He could hear her take a deep breath and there was a long pause before she answered in a quieter voice. “How is he?”

“Um, he’s okay.

“I’M FINE!” Kentarou yelled.

“Really? He’s not hurt?”

He gave Kentarou a smile. “No, he’s honestly fine.”

“And he did stay at your house last night?”

He recognised the worry in her voice and wasn’t surprised – he’d been worried too. “Yes, he did. We had food too, and my dad cooked pancakes for breakfast.”

“Okay… that’s kind of them.” Her voice rasped. “He’s asked if he can move back home, and that wouldn’t be a problem—we are back in three days and he knows how to take care of himself—but …” Another breath, quicker now, panicked. “I don’t want him brooding. I don’t want him by himself while he’s in this negative state and …and … he won’t talk to me. I can guess what the argument was about, but not the words used. Not how deep it cut and … I’m worried for him.”

“Uh…” He turned his head away from Kentarou, flapping his hand so he’d stay put. “What do you want from me?”

“Get him to talk to you, Sh-Shigeru-kun. If he can possibly stay at yours until we’re back, then even better, but obviously that’s an imposition for your parents and—”

“They won’t mind,” he assured her. “Dad’s already suggested it, but … um … it’s up to Kentarou, really.”

“Yes … I know.” She sniffed. Somewhere in the background he could hear a man’s voice and a small child, but she kept her attention on the phone call. “Okay, hand me back to him. And thank you.”

Kentarou took back the phone and hearing the others ending the session, he slipped outside to finish his call. Gently touching his nose, pleased to discover that although it was throbbing, it was no longer bleeding, Shigeru swilled down some water and glanced towards Irihata.

“You look bright enough,” the Coach said. “I could run you to hospital.” Determined to be diligent, he nonetheless sounded reluctant, and Shigeru wondered if he had plans for the afternoon. “Where’s Kyou—”

“My mum’s a nurse, so she can look at it,” Shigeru put in quickly. “It feels much better though. Kyoutani brought me some ice.”

“Good, good. Where is he?”

“Outside … uh … he’ll be back soon. He hasn’t gone, sensei.”

Just then he bowled back in, but not quick enough to hide his phone.

“Kyoutani! What have I said about phones at practice?”

“He was calling my parents,” Shigeru interrupted. “I don’t feel up to the bus and didn’t think you’d want to have to give me a lift home, Irihata-sensei.”

“Hmmph…” Mollified, he uncrossed his arms. “They were good serves today, but you’re not off receive practise that lightly, for you’ll do that first next time.”

The sun was out when they left. Making up for the night before, it beamed brightly drying up the wet earth as they walked out of the gym. Kentarou was silent, not that he was ever loquacious, but he was more tight-lipped than usual, refusing sweets and not even sipping his water. Brooding, Arakawa-san had said, and she’d sounded anxious about it, panicky even.

Shigeru broached the subject first. “So, do you know what you want to do?”

“Stuff Karasuno in a match. Win Prefecturals, qualify for Nationals and win all the awards for my serve and being top ace.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“I know.” He groaned, came to a halt at the bike sheds and slumped against the wall. “She says I can go back, but she loaded it with guilt about how awful she feels and … I’ve fucking ruined her holiday now, haven’t I?”

“She’s worried about you.”

“She doesn’t have to be. I’ll be okay.” He inhaled deeply, then shot Shigeru a glance. “How’s your nose?”

“Sore.”

“Your mum’ll fuss over you.”

“Ha, no she won’t. The thing about nurses is they’ve seen a lot of things that are far worse, so she’ll check me once, hand me an ice pack and then leave me to get on with it. Oh, she will tell me not to bleed over everything,” he replied, laughing.

“She cares though.”

“So does yours.”

“Mmm, I know. Did she tell ask you to keep an eye on me?”

“Something like that.” He paused and scuffed his toe on the pathway. “Do you want me to get Dad to pick us up? It doesn’t mean you have to stay with us.”

“Uh … No offence, but I really want to see the dogs. I just … there’s a bus soon.”

“Oh, okay. I’ll … um … we can look after your stuff.”

Screwing up his face, Kentarou’s eyes left the ground, and he squinted at Shigeru, his face pinking a little. “You can come with me…” he said, his voice gruff. “If you want. No skin off my nose, you know, but … I guess…”

“Yeah, sure,” he replied, equally gruff hoping he conveyed exactly the right amount of casualness that this event obviously required. “I’ll text Dad. Tell him we … um … have plans.”

Kentarou began to relax almost as soon as the bus appeared. The tension clear in the set of his jaw and his shoulders began to leave his body as the journey started and he even stopped flicking through his phone and giving the odd reply, rather than a grunt to Shigeru’s chat about the session. 

“You up to taking them for a walk?” he asked. “We could just play with them in the garden.”

Seeing him so relaxed, he wondered whether to reach out, maybe take his hand or squeeze his arm, but the memory of the night before and Kentarou’s continual shrugging him off was stuck in his mind, and he knew it was better to keep this casual – to wait for Kentarou to make the first move. When he was ready. “I’m fine. A walk will be good.”

“Thanks.” Then Kentarou flexed his arm, and in one fluid movement, he hung it across the back of the seat, his hand resting on Shigeru’s shoulder. “We don’t have to go far,” he murmured, moving his face closer. “But there’s a copse with a small stream running through it, and Mochi loves splashing in it… dumb dog.”

He sounded fond, as he always did when talking about the dogs, but there was something else, a slight tinge of gratitude in his voice to back up the gesture, showing how he appreciated Shigeru being there with him. And the insecurities he’d wrestled with last night, drifted away. Shigeru relaxed back into the seat, and smiled up at Kentarou.

“What are you so happy about?”

“Being here. Chilling. It’s fun.”

“You look soppy! Stop that!”

But he was grinning too.

The neighbour proved not to be the elderly couple Shigeru had envisaged but a pleasant woman with thick raven hair, who answered the door with a small boy clinging to her skirt.

“Kentarou-kun!”

He bowed. “Takahashi-san. Uh… sorry to bother you, but …uh … could I take the dogs?”

“Dogs?” she queried, then smiled. “Yes, of course. They’re in the garden with Tadashi. Is this … um … you picking them up? Or just a walk.” He narrowed his eyes, but she smiled more warmly. “Your Mum messaged me. She said you might be coming back early.”

“Oh, right. Uh … I’m not sure. But I want to take them for a walk now, if that’s okay?”

“Of course. You know your way to the garden.”

“Mmm.” He stepped back, his shoulder skimming Shigeru. “Oh, yeah, sorry, this is my friend, Yahaba.”

“Hi!” Shigeru bowed and smiled widely, stepping back when the small boy approached holding out very grubby hands.

“What’s wrong with his nose?” the boy asked, scowling up at him.

“It’s always like that, Shoto-chan,” Kentarou said gravely. “Yahaba-san was bitten by a killer hornet when he was a baby.”

“Why isn’t he dead then?”

“No one knows,” Kentarou continued. “We think his mushroom hair protected him.”

“Shoto, leave them alone,” his mum laughed. “The latch is on the gate, Kentarou-kun, let yourself through.”

Tadashi, a string-bean of a boy around ten years old, was throwing a ball around the garden when they entered. He waved and loped over when he saw them, although his smile faltered a bit when he peered around them.

“Is Michiko with you?”

“Nope,” Kentarou muttered. He whistled for the dogs, who suddenly realising who’d arrived left the chase of the ball to streak across the garden to him. He crouched to the ground, flinging wide his arms, and Shigeru was caught wondering who was most pleased to see the other.

The puppy, Mochi, after wriggling through Kentarou’s legs, bounded up to Shigeru, eager for pats as his tail wagged as fast as a helicopter.

“Can I come with you?” Tadashi asked.

“No, you can’t,” his mum cried, appearing at the back door. “You have chores to finish and Granny will be here soon.”

With a roll of his eyes, Tadashi trudged inside while his Mum handed over the dog leads, assuring him they could easily look after them for a few more days. “If you do move back, then you know where we are,” she finished, her words sunny. “Although Tadashi will pester you for volleyball tips.”

“Thank you. Um … yeah … I’ll … let you know.” He whistled. “Come on, let’s go!”

Noting an almost mutinous set to Kentarou’s mouth, Shigeru waited until they were clear of the house before talking. “That was nice of her,” he said.

“Um, I guess,” he muttered, then shook his head. “Yeah, I know. She’s decent. It’s just … Mum must have told her something, and I dunno what. They’re pretty close.”

“What does your Mum know, though?”

“Huh?” He shot him a look, which sharpened when he bent down to attach Mochi to his lead. “What did she tell you?”

Whoo boy. Sticking his hands in his pockets, he waited for Kentarou to finish. “She wants me to talk to you. She says she has an idea what’s happened but not ‘the words said’,” he air quoted. “She thinks if you don’t talk it’ll be worse.”

“Jeez…”

“My Mum,” Shigeru persisted, “says I shouldn’t push you, but let you talk in your own time.”

“And what do you think?”

“Did you talk to her last night?” he deflected, and recognising a small niggle of jealousy in his chest, he tried to quash it.

“A little. Not much. I was getting a glass of water and she came into the kitchen.”

“Ahhh, trapped you there, did she?” He smirked, feeling a little more cheerful.

“Maybe.” He frowned. “You haven’t answered the question.”

“According to my mum, and you, actually, I over-think, so maybe this time I’m not going to.”

“Ha ha.” He handed him Mochi’s lead and stomped ahead. “Come on.”

“If you want to know, though…”

“I don’t.” But he’d slowed down and was turning his head.

“I want you to talk to me. But I can’t force you to tell me. I could try to persuade you, and I’m quite good at that.” He pouted in best Oikawa style, wondering if that would do the trick.

Raising his eyebrows, Kentarou said nothing, but he kicked a pebble across the path and waited for Shigeru to finish.

“But I’d rather you were happy about it. So… instead I’m letting you know I’m here if you need me. But, I also suspect you’re pretty good at sorting this shit out for yourself—especially where your parents are concerned.”

With a loud exhale, Kentarou laughed, a somewhat bitter sound, but there was some relief in it too, and when Shigeru approached, tugging Mochi away from sniffing a tuft of grass, he caught his free hand and gave it a squeeze. “Thanks,” he mumbled. “Just… give me a bit more time, okay?”

“Sure.” They walked on for a while, not talking much, until they turned the corner at the end of the path and into a wider open space with a clump of trees across a field. Unleashing both dogs, Mochi scurried after Dango, stopping sniff everything in his path.

“You’re very good with kids,” Shigeru said. “I didn’t know that about you before.”

“Younger sister. When I didn’t have volleyball, I hung out with her, or picked her up from her friends. And I’ve babysat sometimes.” He shrugged. “It’s not rocket science. You, like, talk to them on the same level and don’t try and trick them.”

“Except about my nose and the killer hornets.”

“You think Shoto believed that? He’s obsessed with insects.” He gave him a smile. “Wow, can tell you’re an only child!”

They wandered across the field, grass pricking at their ankles while the dogs bounded after the stick Kentarou threw and circled back to check he was still following. The sun beat down, and wiping his brow, Shigeru was pleased when they found shade. A stream bubbled past them, and just as Kentarou had said, Mochi leapt into it to paddle in the shallows, biting at any bubbles appearing in the surface. Dango stayed with them, and when they sat on the ground, she gave Kentarou’s hand a lick, before lying at his feet.

And at last, in the shade, his face in darkness, Kentarou stroked her ears and began to speak.

“Micchan was laughing at me for falling into the door,” he said, his fingers running slowly through Dango’s thick fur. “I was annoyed because she’d left the skate out and I’d tripped, so we started arguing. And then when it was clear I’d actually hurt myself, she got upset. She fetched me a wet flannel, sat next to me and said …” He gulped. “She said ‘You can get Yahaba-san to kiss that better’ and I started to laugh a bit, but Dad had overheard and …”

“You don’t have to tell me.”

“He asked who ‘Yahaba-san’ was, and of course she answered, saying ‘Nii-san’s boyfriend. He’s really cool’ and I guess I could have denied it, but he asked if it was true and … I said yes. Like, he knows I’m gay, and I know he’s not that happy about it, but I never realised he actually hated it—hated me—so much.”

“What happened?”

“He asked Micchan to go and get him a newspaper and some sweets if she wanted from the store, and she went, and it was all said so lightly, that I thought … well … I don’t know what I thought, maybe we’d have a proper talk or he’d say something about how he didn’t like it, but he respected me, or it was my life and—”

“He didn’t.”

Shaking his head, Kentarou hugged his knees to his chest. “I _disgust_ him. That’s what he said. He thought the last time was a one off, a reaction to mum marrying again and having a baby. He blamed her last time. But now … it’s all on me and how I’m broken and I have to ‘sort myself out’ because he can’t have that from his son.

“I should have shut up then, nodded and agreed, apologised or whatever, but he went on and on, wanted your name and to speak to your parents, was going to take this up with the school and Irihata-san, and I was begging him not to. Begging him! And he slammed me against the wall, and the hate in his eyes, the disgust it was _awful.”_ His voice cracked. _“_ That’s my Dad, you know. I always thought he’d have my back, like I know him and mum aren’t together and we don’t see each other all the time, but he’s always made time for me.” He pounded his head with his fists, and now the sound coming out of his mouth was the yelp of a wounded animal.

Shuffling along the ground, Shigeru shifted closer. “What happened next?”

He lifted his face to the sky, blinking away tiny diamond like tears leaking from his eyes. “Uh… well, then I lost _my_ temper. Quite hard not to when there’s spit on your face and someone’s swearing and telling you you’re worthless, a disgrace and—”

“You’re not a disgrace. You’re not worthless.”

“I shoved him away. I yelled at him, said it was none of his business. He said if I didn’t like his rules I could get out, so … I did.” Sniffing, he scrubbed at his eyes with one hand. “And came to yours.”

“I’m glad you did. I know it must have been hard for you, but I’m glad you felt you could come to me,” he replied and squeezed his shoulder.

“I did only come to get money. I didn’t want to stay. Really wanted to be alone and …” He let out a long sigh, turning to drop a small kiss on Shigeru’s fingers. “But I’m glad I did too. And I’m sorry if I was a bit … uh … off.”

“Understandable,” he replied, trying to sound light.

Kentarou ploughed on. “It was your parents being there and … I know they’re cool with us, and everything, but it felt … um … wrong.” He shook his head. “I’m not making any sense.”

“Yeah, you are. I just … um …it’s like we’ve rowed before but… Gah, forget it. As long as it’s not ‘us’ or rather me that’s wrong.”

“Huh?” He twisted back to face Shigeru, his eyes narrowing. “What… oh … Oh! Did you think I was dumping you? No, it was … I needed … uh … you know what it’s like in a game and how I go in and need time to adjust.” Shigeru nodded, a nugget of understanding finally chinking in his head. “It wasn’t you. It definitely wasn’t you. I needed head space.” And then he cupped Shigeru’s face in his hands, and very slowly pressed his mouth to his lips, slowly parting them. The kiss was endless, a tender touch deepening in intensity, a kiss that left him breathless, but he didn’t want it to end, willing to drown or suffocate right there with Kentarou.

“I thought you’d gone off me,” Shigeru admitted, muttering into his ear.

“How the fuck are you _so_ insecure?” Kentarou whispered, and groaned in despair. 

“Only for a little bit,” he bluffed, “but … um … yeah because we’re always … kind of … um ... physical, but last night—even before my parents were back, you were …uh …”

“Dumbass.” He tweaked one of Shigeru’s curls. “Sorry, maybe my Dad got in my head more than I thought, but I know it’s not wrong. Sometimes I think you’re the only right thing in my life.” He reddened and tried to backtrack. “Apart from volleyball … and the dogs … and … uh …”

“The Bundesliga?”

“Yeah.” He very gently nuzzled Shigeru’s nose. “But you’re better than Seria A.”

After they’d walked the dogs through the copse and in a circle on the way back to the neighbour, they stopped outside his house, Kentarou’s hand twitching on the latch of the garden gate. But he gave a small smile, a sigh and skirted his fingers across the fence instead.

“For the first time ever, this actually feels like home,” he murmured, then slipped his hand into Shigeru’s. “If it’s okay, then I’d like to stay at yours. Like, if the offer’s not open, it’s not a problem because I _can_ stay here and—”

“Shh.” Placing a finger on Kentarou’s lips, Shigeru tugged him closer. “It’s fine. My parents are cool with it.”

“They are, yeah.” He flicked him on the forehead. “You have gotta stop calling your Dad lame. He was great today.”

“Not so cool they’ll let us share a room,” Shigeru said wryly, pulling away, “but, yeah, he was, and I know I’m lucky.” Nudging him with his elbow, he then asked, “Do you want to go in?”

“Nope. Bus’ll be here soon, so I need to take the hell-hounds back.”

The ‘hell-hounds’ gave him a lick and a bark as he dropped them back off, Shigeru waiting by the neighbour’s path, and then together they sauntered to the bus stop, where Kentarou texted his mum, and later Michiko.

“Hey, Mum,” Shigeru said, calling her once they were on the bus. “We’re on our way home.”

“We?” she queried.

“Yes.”

She breathed out, a little shakily and he wondered just what she’d been imagining. The worst, no doubt, and it occurred to him ruefully that maybe ‘over-thinking’ was genetic.

“Good.”

Later that evening, when his Dad had persuaded them of his need for them both to play Monopoly, Shigeru helped him set up the board and sort out the cards. With his Mum deciding she wanted a relaxing bath instead, and Kentarou absenting himself to call Michiko, Shigeru took the opportunity to ask his Dad something that had been puzzling him since the morning.

“When you spoke to Kyoutani-san, you mentioned your dad … um Granddad.”

“I did.” His Dad continued to shuffle the cards.

“Was it true? Or were you … uh … embroidering to make a point?”

“It’s true,” he replied. Placing the cards on their rectangle, he ruffled Shigeru’s hair. “Your Granddad disapproved of … well … everything, really. He wanted me to be a lawyer or something like that. I liked messing about with bikes and working with my hands. I took accountancy exams to please him, but it was never something I had a burning vocation to do.”

“But you _are_ an accountant.”

“Life happens, Shigeru,” he said, rather wryly. “He disliked my friends as well, accused them of leading me astray.”

“Oh.”

“So, I had this particularly ‘disreputable’ girlfriend who had an idea about travelling round the country on a bike. I blew my savings and we set off together.”

“Wow.”

“Granddad was not amused. He said if I didn’t come back immediately then he’d disown me.” He pressed his lips together. “I called his bluff—after all I was the only relative he had left in the world—but it turned out not to be a bluff.”

“That’s … um …” Shigeru swallowed. “I can’t imagine falling out with you that badly.”

“He was a stubborn and proud man. I’d dishonoured him by not knuckling under, and although I know he had—or thought he had—my best interests at heart, he couldn’t see my girlfriend for what she was. All he saw was another biker with choppy purple hair and—”

“Mum?”

“Oh…” He smiled. “Yes, of course it was your Mum.”

“And you never saw him again… because of that.”

“Ah, well… we did, one more time. You were on the way by then and your mother insisted we let him know. I was going to let things be, but she sent a letter and also a photo of the pair of us when she was six months pregnant, maybe.”

“So you did see him?”

“Mmm, he was dying by then. To this day I don’t know if he’d have contacted us if we hadn’t got there first, and I also don’t know if he’d have been alive if we’d been in touch. If I’d visited often because then, perhaps, he’d have taken better care of himself and …” He trailed off, then took a slug of his water. “I won’t let that happen to us, you know. And I hope it doesn’t happen to Kentarou and his father,”

“He said some awful things. I’m not sure how they can come back from it.”

“Time. Life. Things change. I have regrets that things weren’t better between myself and my father, that you never got to meet him—because he would have _loved_ you—but I don’t regret my decision not giving in to him. I proved him wrong, and you’re that proof, Shigeru.” He sighed and rubbed at the bridge of his nose. “When it comes down to it, we have to live our own lives, not an imitation of someone else’s.”

They stared at each other, the understanding between them implicit, but when Kentarou returned a few moments later, his Dad stepped back. “We don’t have to play Monopoly, you know. It must seem ‘lame’ to you, Kyoutani-kun. I’m sure there’s something far more interesting you’d rather be doing.”

“Uh…” He chewed his lip as he considered, reminding Shigeru of practise and the split second before he’d decided where to spike the ball and tilted his head, decision made.. “I’d like to. It’s kind of … um … normal.”

“He’s horribly competitive,” Shigeru added.

“Good job your mother isn’t playing then,” his dad replied in a loud whisper. “Or these little houses would end up embedded in the wall.”

“I heard that,” she said, appearing in the doorway, wrapped in her blue towelling robe. “I’m going to read now and get an early night. Shigeru, make sure you cover your pillow with a towel, just in case you start bleeding again.”

He caught Kentarou’s eye and both grinned, leaving his mum to roll her eyes and go to bed, while his dad finished setting up the board.

A successful game later (successful for Kentarou who bankrupted Shigeru and managed to own three quarters of the board while Shigeru’s dad languished in jail) they were packing away when his dad after the fakest yawn in existence declared he was off to bed.

“Did I interrupt something earlier?” Kentarou asked as he sorted through the property cards.

“Um… oh… no, not really. We’d finished. He was telling me about his dad, that’s all.” He collected all the houses and hotels packing them away. “Do you want to watch something tonight?”

“Uh… maybe.” He stifled a yawn. “It’s been … a day and a half, so I might … um crash. Do you mind?”

“Mind? Why would I mind?”

“Because…” Kentarou stopped what he was doing, snaked his arm around Shigeru’s waist and pulled him close, pressing their bodies together as he nuzzled his neck. “You have this weird complex where if I’m not leaping on you twenty-four hours a day, you think I’m going to dump you.”

“Hey, I’m not that bad,” he tried to say, but Kentarou’s breath was hot on his skin and as his teeth nipped his earlobe, he wasn’t so sure Kentarou wasn’t right. “Okay, maybe I am, but if you just double up on leaping the hours we’re actually awake, then I won’t mind at all.”

In bed, Shigeru touched his lips, feeling the slight swell from the thorough snogging session with Kentarou, now asleep in the room next door, and he smiled as he remembered their plan for tomorrow—another walk with the dogs, and sitting together in the secluded copse…

Unable to settle, he flicked through one of the old photo albums, scrutinising his granddad to wonder whether he’d have approved of Shigeru and Kentarou, or if he’d have turned his back on his family again. Then he turned the page, not wanting to dwell on an issue that would never be tested or resolved. His eyes scanned each page, until finally he found it. A snapshot tucked in, almost as an afterthought, of his Dad leaning against his bike, his arms around his wife, cradling her stomach.

He wasn’t the centre, or the focal point of the picture, but then again his dad rarely was. Yet this was the picture which had swayed the old man, propelling him to get back in touch.

The picture which had proved that his son had been not just steadfast but right all along.

**Author's Note:**

> Ta-Da! 
> 
> There might be another one .... not sure yet, but I'm very fond of this set-up, so who knows? 
> 
> Thank you for reading. Kudos and comments always welcome!


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